Reflection
by Agent ERA
Summary: "He had eyes only for the flag covered body. Flack fell painfully to his knees and reached with a shaking hand towards the shroud..." Non-slash...


**A/N:** _The idea for this small head canon of mine was born in the wake of watching S.8 premier Indelible. I was intrigued by Flack's flashback of that horrible day and decided to expand upon it. So, I did a little research of the days after and tried to make this as realistic as possible and I hope this easy to follow and read. Perhaps one of these days I will __write a much more lengthy fic but this is all I have the patience for sadly, but should anyone wish to continue it please PM me and I will give my consent and more info. _

_The identity of the last survivor is not revealed for the usual reasons..._

_Please enjoy and review, your thoughts are most appreciated! _

_Sincerely,_

_Agent ERA_

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Looking back, Flack knew he was one of the few lucky ones. Fewer than 300 whole bodies had been found. They were fortunate if one was even identifiable. He remembered jumping every time the shout "we found a body!" He remembered every time his heart sunk a little deeper when it wasn't Jimmy. He remembered the day they found his twin's body with stark clarity.

It was on Wednesday afternoon after the Towers had collapsed. They had just pulled another survivor from the rubble and two bodies of firefighters nearby. Flack had scratched his palm on a nasty piece of concrete and was having it cleaned by an EMT. It was in the process of being bandaged when the two bodies had been brought out.

The parade came to a stop before him silently and he was dimly aware of the medic finishing with his palm. A dusty firefighter knelt before him. A heavy hand gently squeezed his right knee. Flack blinked.

"I'm so sorry, son." The man whispered huskily. He opened his mouth as if to say more but abruptly closed it. Don didn't notice. He had eyes only for the flag covered body. Flack fell painfully to his knees and reached with a shaking hand towards the shroud. He slowly pulled it back and revealed his own face. Jimmy's eyes were closed forever. Reality slammed into him and he was left shaking like a leaf. Jimmy was dead. Someone laid a comforting hand on his shoulder but Don barely felt it. Gathering his twin's head, he gently cradled it to his chest. He rocked back and forth; chest shaking with barely suppressed sobs.

"It's alright son," someone whispered, "let it out."

He did, not caring that he was surrounded by fellow police officers, firefighters, National Guard, and a number of volunteers. A torrent of tears flooded his face and sobs racked his frame. Horrible keening escaped his lips, loud and distressing.

Time passed and Flack paid no heed to the others who gradually returned to the rubble. A new hand fell on his left arm, which was still tightly clenching Jimmy's head.

"Donnie," a familiar voice called, "Donnie, time to let go."

Don merely tightened his grip, burying his face in his brother's dirty hair. "Donnie please." The hand refused to move, rubbing Don's arm.

Reluctantly, Don lifted his head and gazed into the haggard face of Detective Mac Taylor, who knelt beside him. Taylor's once pristine suit was covered in ash and dust. Weary green eyes blinked underneath a layer of filth.

"C'mon," Mac gently pried his arms lose and quietly lowered Jimmy's head. Don stared blankly as Mac slowly replaced the shroud. Then, Jimmy was gone and Don watched as his twin was taken from him to a makeshift morgue. He stood stiffly with Mac's help. "Let's get you home."

The walk to Mac's car was passed in a haze, Jimmy's face floated in front of him. It stayed there until he realized with a start that they in front of his parents house in Queens. Jimmy disappeared.

Mac turned off the engine and they sat there in silence. For which, Don was gratefully for speech had fled from him. Movement from the corner of his startled him. Don turned and saw his mother hovering in front of the door. He had barely closed the door before his mother was on him. Her arms encircled him and squeezed him tightly. Don hid his face in her hair as she started cry, the sobs quickly turning into loud wails.

"Molly!" Suddenly Pop was there, quickly pulling Molly away from Don. "For heaven's sake, luv, don't suffocate the boy." Don turned away from the sight, unable to bear the unshed tears in Pop's eyes. He walked in a daze, ignoring the small crowd that had quickly surrounded his parents. Don fled to his room, escaping the well-meaning arms of his siblings. He quickly stripped the dusty uniform and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. The scalding water burned, turning an ugly brown as it washed away the ash and dust down the drain.

"Don," someone called and once again, another hand fell on his arm. His eyes flew open and the shower abruptly faded away and he was suddenly back in the present. Don's eyes focused and he found himself standing in front of the Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance. Jimmy's grainy, black and white face grinned back at him. "Don." Don started violently again and turned. Mac was staring at him, concern filling his features. "You ok? You spaced out on me."

A horrible feeling of déjà-vu fell over him but Don shook it off. He started to answer to say "I'm fine," but he caught the look in Mac's and sighed deeply. Don shook his head, "No," he said softly, Don stared at his twin's smiling image and his heart ached in renewed vigor. He raised a shaking hand and placed a red poppy the small ledge on top of Jimmy's plaque. "I don't know if I'll ever be 'O.K.' "

Mac sighed, "I don't any of us will ever be 'O.K., Don." He tugged on his friend's arm. "C'mon, the others will be at Sullivan's by now."

Don gazed one last time on his brother's face then he turned to follow Mac.

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_Please Review! _


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